Golden
by burstingfruits
Summary: Peter/Caspian. All the things Caspian loves about Peter.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters - they belong to the wonderful C.S. Lewis & obviously this is all fiction.  
**Author's Note:** This is my first time posting on this site and my first Narnia story, so constructive criticism and feedback is truly appreciated, thanks.

Everything about Peter Pevensie was golden. From the sun kissed tan that smothered his skin, to the crown of shimmering hair that glistened under the sun, to the tiny flecks that danced in his eyes - everything about Peter Pevensie was golden. The bejewelled, gold crown that adorned his head simply blended in to the waves of gold that was Peter Pevensie; the crown simply belonged there. Peter radiated and oozed like the sun, making it almost difficult to look directly at him. The Pevensie's came from a different world, maybe in that world he was a sun, and that is why he dazzled so brightly - at least that's how Caspian looked at it.

Everything about Caspian was dark, the antithesis to Narnia's Golden Boy. Caspian had waves and waves of thick dark hair, casting heavy shadows across his face, veiling the wide pools of his almost black eyes. As Peter's skin was touched with shimmering gold, Caspian's was dark with tan. Gold didn't dance in his eyes, but shadows circled hazily. Some said he was enveloped in a shroud of mysteries- Caspian didn't really know what to say about that. The only physical similarities between Caspian and Peter, were their muscular builds and the jewellery that encircled their heads, even then Peter's crown was bigger, made of more gold. Caspian was the shadow behind the Golden Boy.

Caspian guessed this was what attracted him to the High King. Opposites attract and all that - and opposites they were. Peter was other-worldly, not just in looks, but in air and pose. He was self assured, down to being arrogant. Years of experience produced the majestic air that swirled around him, elevating him to superiority despite his youthful appearance- and Peter knew this. Peter was the High King of Narnia and he was damn well going to act like the King Narnia deserved. Caspian, however, didn't hold the same regal air as his king. He wasn't sure if he could handle the title, he just knew that a murdering usurper couldn't rule over him or the people of Narnia. Capsian knew the title was his – it was his birthright.

Peter was always sure he right, Caspian was always sure that Peter was wrong - so they argued, a lot. Secretly, Caspian liked the way Peter looked when someone questioned his authority - it was probably good for him. Peter's golden eyebrows would arch in surprise, and his plump lips would form a perfect 'o' as they pursed together, his eyes searched for his opponent. Caspian didn't think Peter was slow, but he thought Peter should have realised a long time ago that it was always _him_ that challenged his Highness. When Peter's eyes landed on his own, Caspian loved the look of challenge in those golden flecks, he loved the straightness of his king's eyebrows and how his lips would curl into a mild sneer. He also loved how in the end he would make the High King settle for a compromise after staring into those blue and golden eyes for endless moments as they wordlessly battled it out.

Another thing Caspian liked about the High King was the way every muscle in his body fought for what he believed in. Peter was strong for his country and its people. Caspian just wanted to avenge his father and reclaim his throne. Of course, he didn't want a vile, murdering Telemarian as king, and of course he didn't want the Narnians living in recluse, it just took him a little longer to learn. The selfless Kings and Queens of Old taught him how to be strong for Narnia, how to love it with all his heart and want to do everything in his power to assure the well being to _all_ of its inhabitants. It took Caspian a little longer (longer than he cared to admit) to realise he was being selfish in the castle looking for Miraz, but with Peter roaring at him as if he were a lion, it was hard not to learn.

Caspian was in awe of Peter's ability to lead and set good examples. Sure, he was arrogant, he couldn't admit when he was wrong or needed help, but with Edmund around to set him in place, Caspian didn't mind so much. He also thought it was cute when Peter got his troops lost and wouldn't back down. A simple route across a river could become as long and winding as forest trecks and there was no point in telling the High King that the shortest way was to retrack their steps. Not that this would stop Caspian muttering this loud enough for their troops to hear and watching Peter's face boil a vivascious red.

Caspian also loved the way Peter looked when he humbled before Aslan, as if, for once, he truly knew his place in the world. Peter looked sorry and grateful and like he didn't know everything - for once in his life. He loved the way Peter's features would soften and the haughty air that enveloped him seemed to evaporate before the magnificent lion. Aslan melted his imposing and commanding qualities in the blink of an amber eye and Peter returned to being just a boy, a boy vulnerable and carrying the weight of Narnia on his shoulders. A boy from another world that had some how landed in a kaleidescopic new world, pouring with adventure. A boy that was developing into a man before Caspian's eyes, like a caterpillar into a butterfly, or something to that effect.

Caspian recognised the Peter before Aslan, as the Peter he loved best. It was the same Peter that sometimes crept through the shady corridors of the castle late at night, tip toeing his way into Caspian's bed chambers, quietly sliding under the sheets. His bare feet would be ice-cold from the stone flooring and the second thing he always did was wrap his feet in the blanket at the end of the bed, trying to warm them up. The first thing was always to slip his arm around Caspian's waist and whisper his name, checking to see if he was awake. Caspian was always awake, waiting for his king.

It was the same tender Peter that played adoringly with his youngest sister. He laughed and smiled unconditionally around her. He wasn't proud or 'High King Peter the Magnificent' around Lucy Pevency. He was an older brother who was adopting the role of a father in a world where their father would never exist. This Peter was playful and happy, the worries of Narnia were cast off with his crown so that he could roam through the uneven splinters of sunlight that cascaded through the canopy high above them in the forests, or roll down a hill, watching the world spin out of control around him, to land in a heap of laughter at the bottom, Lucy's shining face nearby, cradling the stitches of laughter in her stomach.

It was the same Peter, but slightly different, that cradled Caspian close to his chest behind the curtains that surrounded Caspian's bed. Even in the dark of night, Peter's skin was touched by an ethereal shine. He may not be a sun in Narnia, but something on the inside of him made him glow golden and warm Caspian's heart and body. The Peter in Caspian's bed was some times scared and sometimes unsure of himself. Sometimes this Peter was dominating and sometimes he was vulnerable, and often, he'd be completley undone, buckling and whimpering, sweating and groaning animalistically, writhing under Caspian's touch. Caspian would always be reassuring or sympathetic, an open ear or an open mouth, what ever Peter needed, Caspian was; but all Peter needed was Caspian. Sometimes they'd argue over who was going to top, sometimes Caspian won, and often Peter won. Sometimes they'd do nothing at all but lie still, holding each other or letting their feet toy with one another, even if Peter's were like glaciers. Sometimes they'd laugh and joke and sometimes they'd talk politics. Sometimes Peter admitted his love for Caspian and sometimes Peter would leave, telling Caspian it was wrong. Most of the time Peter just showed Caspian he loved him and Caspian revelled in it and returned it- it made him feel golden.


End file.
